IronDad Whumptober
by crime.fighting.spida
Summary: A series of one-shots for whumptober until I get rid of this writers block :,)
1. Gunpoint

Peter hadn't meant to get himself in this situation, he really hadn't.

In fact, he wasn't even going to go on patrol that night; he had an English essay due tomorrow that he maybe possibly hadn't started. And it was now 8:30 pm. Oops.

So here he was, without his Spiderman suit, in the small convenience store he frequented on nights like these, when he had homework to do and would need plenty of energy drinks to get him through it and keep him motivated.

Small problem, though. Not ten seconds after he entered the store, three armed robbers burst open the door and ran for the cash register, guns pointed at the cashier, the other shoppers, and at Peter. "NO ONE MOVE!"

A woman started to cry as the cashier stood still with his hands up, between a gunman and the cash register. Another gunman started walking around the store, demanding everyone surrender their cell phones so the police wouldn't be called.

Peter felt his heart rate increase in speed as he tried to formulate a plan of action. Likely any bold action he would take would result in civilian death, so whipping out his cell phone to call the police was out of the question. He was outnumbered by the gunmen, although with his enhancements and abilities it would truthfully be a fairly even matchup. For a brief moment he considered fighting the three of them, at least for long enough to allow the civilians to exit the store to safety. _No,_ he thought. _What if they don't let the other people out of the store, and things go sour? Plus, Mr. Stark would totally kill me if I tried to fight these guys even with my suit._

Oh, yeah, Mr. Stark! Peter slowly shifted his left arm across his body and rested his right hand over his left wrist, where a high-tech watch, a gift from Mr. Stark, was fastened. This watch tracked his vitals, relayed his location to Mr. Stark at all times, and would alert him of an emergency situation when Peter pressed the panic button on the side of the watch face.

Peter pressed the panic button and slowly returned his arms to his side just before one of the gunmen aggressively approached Peter, who surrendered his cell phone, careful to hand it over in his right hand so the watch wouldn't be seen. Hopefully Mr. Stark wouldn't try to call him.

"GET ON YOUR KNEES! EVERYONE! NOW!" Screamed the gunman at the front of the store with the cashier. He seemed to be in charge. At his words, the other gunmen walked around, forcing non-compliant people to their knees.

Peter was on his way to the kneeling position when a pregnant woman in the aisle adjacent to his was kicked forcefully to her knees by a gunman.

"Stop that!" yelled Peter as he rushed to help her up.

"She was moving too slowly," the gunman said nonchalantly. Peter helped the woman up to her knees and was about to ask if she was okay when there was a tingling at the base of his skill - his spider sense notifying him of acute oncoming danger. Peter could only release his supportive hands from the woman's arms before he was kicked square in the back.

He was about to pick himself up from the tile floor when he felt a gun at his neck and a knee pressing against his legs, pinning him down. Blood pooled on the ground from Peter's nose. The pregnant woman gasped.

Truthfully, Peter acted before he really thought through the potential consequences of his actions. As Mr. Stark would certainly and unhesitatingly remind him, turning over and kicking the gun out of the man's hands and punching him swiftly in the face to render him unconscious was quite reckless, although boldly heroic. Still, Peter found himself doing just that. As the gunman hit the ground, his friend that wasn't busy at the cash register ran toward Peter.

"Everybody out!" yelled Peter. The other shoppers quickly filed out of the convenience store and onto the street, leaving Peter and the cashier alone with the two gunmen. Suddenly Peter was faced with a decision: to either reveal his identity to anyone who could see the store by fighting off the two remaining gunmen, or to put himself and those around him in imminent danger by not fighting.

Luckily the decision was made for Peter as a red and gold metallic figure strolled casually through the convenience store doors.

"Alright, fellas, you've had your fun. Time to go home now," said the ever suave Tony Stark. _Impressive timing, _thought Peter.

Not missing a beat, the gunman nearest the cash register shot the foot of the cashier and grabbed the cash register. The cashier let out a yelp and fell to the floor.

"Oh, so you think this is a game?" Iron Man walked over to the man who now held the cash register and, while being pelted with bullets from both of the men's guns, served the gunman an uppercut punch to the jaw which sent him to the floor as well.

Just as Peter thought it was over and they had won, the remaining gunman grabbed Peter in a headlock and pressed the gun to his temple. "Stark, if you move another _inch_ I will put a bullet through his head!"

Tony stopped in his tracks. Blood from Peter's nose dripped down Peter's chin and onto the gunman's arm.

Tony felt his blood go cold as he saw a bloodied Peter trapped in the man's grip. Intrusive thoughts of Peter dying right here in this store flashed across his mind. "You're not gonna want to do that, buddy," Tony reasoned, keeping his voice as even as he could. He had to buy time; not even Peter could survive a bullet through his brain. He shuddered as Peter's blood dripped to the floor. "The cops are going to be here soon, and you don't want -"

Tony was cut off by Peter, gripping the gunman's wrist and pointing the gun at the floor. Instinctually, the robber pulled the trigger and a bullet hit the floor. As Peter and the gunman began to wrestle, Tony aimed his repulser and shot at the gunman who crumpled to the floor as the police burst through the doors.

"Holy shit," said Peter, breathing heavily. He looked up at Tony, whose face was uncovered now by his mask. Relief flooded his senses as he saw his mentor smile.

"Language, kid, do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" quipped Tony.

Peter chuckled. "Thanks for coming. You made good time."

Despite what had just happened, Peter looked at Tony with awe. Tony smiled at the thought that Peter was in _awe_ of him. _If anything, _he thought,_ it is the other way around. _"Kid, there is nothing I wouldn't do for you." Peter blushed at the vulnerable, undisguised show of affection that was becoming more and more characteristic of his mentor. Peter's smile was response enough for Tony. Hopefully Peter actually believed him.

Throwing his arm around Peter, Tony said, "come on, let's get that nose of yours looked at. If we're quick, Bruce might not have to re-break it."


	2. Hallucinations

It was a Friday night in October and Peter was staying the weekend at the Compound with Tony to work on improvements for Peter's suit. He'd been looking forward to this weekend ever since it had been planned. Peter loved these weekends. He would work on his homework while Tony worked on a StarkPad nearby, ready to answer questions. Then, when Peter was finished, they'd order takeout from any number of restaurants and go down to Tony's lab to work. They'd eat and work and work into the early hours of the morning until Peter would inevitably fall asleep at the table, then Tony would wake him and they'd go to bed; Tony in his room and Peter in the room nearest Tony's that was furnished especially for him.

Today, Peter and Tony were working on Peter's web shooters. Empty takeout boxes littered the unused tables and the two sat next to each other, each working diligently on specific mechanisms of the devices.

The two of them were in sync, insomuch that they rarely had to speak to communicate. They worked in rhythm with each other, occasionally handing a tool to the other. If anyone else were to walk into Tony's lab, they would have been dumbfounded at the ease with which the two seemed to read each other's minds.

So they worked in happy quiet, content with each other's company and fiercely focused on the work that lie before them on the table. Breaking the silence for the fourth time in the past few minutes, however, was another of Tony's yawns.

"Mr. Stark?" Peter finally asked. He sounded concerned, and stopped working to look up at Tony. "When is the last time you slept?"

Tony drew a long sip of his coffee and sighed, not looking up from his work on the table. He tried to remember the last time he slept, but to no avail - it had been too long. He didn't remember. "Uhm, yesterday? Last night. Back to work, we're almost done," he lied.

Peter did not return to his work but instead looked at Tony with worry. He faced Tony with his hand supporting his own head while his elbow sat on the table. "Yeah, I don't buy that. When was the last time you slept?"

Tony did not respond as he kept quietly working. Peter noticed the dark circles under his mentor's eyes. "_Mr. Stark," _he implored.

This earned a look from Tony, who put his work down on the table and faced Peter. "Kid, you don't need to worry about the sleep I'm getting, alright? Don't worry about it. Seriously," he said sternly.

"But if I don't worry about it, you certainly won't, and if no one is worrying about you then you won't get enough sleep," argued Peter.

"And why would that be your responsibility, Peter? I can worry about myself, you need to stop," replied Tony with a bit more frustration than intended.

Peter was noticeably taken aback by Tony's harsh tone. He returned to his work quietly, face hot, and made it a point to avoid eye contact with Tony.

The two sat in silence for a couple more minutes, Tony not moving as he faced Peter who silently worked. Tony's heart sank in his chest, heavy with regret at his response to Peter's honest worry, as he watched Peter who would not look up at him.

After a little while, there was a knock at the lab door. Rhodey's figure was discernible through the glass, so Tony asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. to let him in. Peter glanced up from his work to acknowledge Rhodey's presence, then returned to what he was doing, still not looking at Tony.

"Uhh, hey guys," said Rhodes. "It's 12:45, you may want to consider calling it a night."

Usually Pepper was the one who would drop in on the two of them before going to bed herself, but she was on a week long business conference in Italy. _She must've had Rhodey take her place_, thought Tony. _That woman thinks of everything._

When Pepper would stop in and announce the time to the two superheroes, they'd always assure her that they weren't tired and that the work they were doing was important, after all. They wouldn't stop working until Peter fell asleep, no matter the time and no matter the warning from Pepper.

That's why it surprised Tony when Peter stood up from his stool at the table and said, "Thanks Rhodey, I'm going to head to bed."

Tony was taken aback as Peter scooped up his backpack and walked past Tony to get to the door. "Goodnight," Peter said as he walked past Rhodey who stood in the doorway. Tony slumped in his chair, feeling hurt that their night was over, but also that he had clearly hurt Peter.

"What's up with the spider child?" asked Rhodey.

"I think I pissed him off," said Tony.

Rhodey snorted. "How did you manage to do that?"

"He asked me when the last time I slept was and I snapped at him."

Rhodey walked over and took Peter's abandoned seat by Tony. "Well, when was the last time you slept?"

"I honestly can't remember."

Rhodey rolled his eyes and dragged his hands down his face in defeat. "What the hell, man."

"You too?"

"Yeah, me too, no shit. Go to bed."

Tony didn't feel up to arguing with his friend. In fact, he had started to notice how tired he was after his second yawn. He wordlessly stood up from his seat and began to walk to his room.

"Goodnight, Tones," said Rhodey sweetly as Tony left the room.

"Can it, honeybear," Tony countered as he exited the room.

He entered the elevator and it began to carry him up to his bedroom, despite him not having said a word to F.R.I.D.A.Y. He exited the elevator on his floor and began to walk to his room. He stopped at Peter's doorway and debated knocking on his door and apologizing, but after a couple minutes he figured it would be best to talk to him tomorrow after they had both slept.

Tony entered his bedroom and shed his clothes that he had been wearing for the past day? two days? was it more? and changed into pajamas. He sprawled across the bed in a way that Pepper would have never allowed had she been there to stop him and within seconds Tony was asleep.

The next thing Tony knew, he was fighting some weird looking aliens in New York City.

Actually, he and some of the Avengers were fighting these aliens. Tony looked around, taking a mental note of who he was fighting with. Cap, Natasha, Falcon, Rhodey's War Machine, Vision, and of course Queens' Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman were here, fighting off the nasty looking creatures. Instinctively Tony called out over the comms to Peter first.

"Kid? What do you see?"

"Uhh, well, there's a ton of these alien thingies! And some of them can fly! Where did they come from, does anyone know? My webs don't stick to them all that well so I've been just swinging around and kicking the shit out of them. It's pretty dope, actually, Mr. Stark! Like hear watch!" Tony looked up as Peter shot a web at a lamppost and gained momentum as he swung around and kicked an alien in its ugly face down to Natasha, who shot it in the mouth. "See? Totally works. Improvise, adapt, and overcome, right? Also my grenade webs work pretty well too! And -"

"Ok, thanks for that, Queens. Can you head up north and make sure the civilians have evacuated the area?" Steve's commanding voice interrupted Peter's overeager one as the fight raged on.

"Sure thing Captain America!" said Peter who dutifully began swinging northward, gaining both distance and height as he scaled buildings to avoid the fight.

"Wait, Peter, hold on," said Tony hesitantly. Something was about to happen, he could feel it. In a way he couldn't explain, he could feel it.

"No, Peter, we need you over there, to save those people, okay? Why are you holding him back, Tony? It's safer over there." Cap's voice again came over the comms.

Natasha spoke next. "Tony, he'll be safer away from the fight, ok? Trust him on that one." And Tony wanted to trust them, he really did. He just felt like something really, really bad was about to happen to Peter and he didn't know how to prevent it and it was all going to be his fault and -

"Boss, your heart rate is exceeding that which would be considered normal. Are you in distress?" His A.I. interrupted his train of thought, and his vitals were displayed in his view.

Before Tony could respond, though, one of the aliens flew sharply upwards maybe a quarter of a mile from Tony. He followed it with his eyes until it met its target hundreds of feet in the air.

""PETER!"

Tony watched helplessly, unable to move, as Peter's form fell from the sky. Voices came over the comms, but Tony wasn't listening. He was stuck, unable to do _anything_ except for watch his kid fall out of the sky.

He remembered Germany, when Rhodey fell after being hit by Falcon in a similar way. Peter's suit could withstand a lot of things, but it wasn't build the same way Rhodey's War Machine suit was built. If the parachute didn't deploy, Peter likely wouldn't survive the fall.

Tony was helpless to do anything but watch Spiderman fall from the sky. Even as he approached the earth at high speeds, his parachute wouldn't go off. Tony couldn't _move_.

Peter hit the ground with a heart-stopping thud that caused the entire battlefield that was formerly a series of streets and intersections in New York City to fall silent. As Peter hit the ground, Tony found it within himself to move himself toward the boy. His Iron Man suit flew him to where Peter lay motionless on the ground. During the fall, Peter's mask had somehow flown off. Tony looked at his face. It was pale, bloodied, and lifeless. Undoubtedly Peter was gone.

"No. This can't - you're not - Peter! Wake up, right now, you hear me? Right now!" Tony grabbed Peter's face with his hands and tears streamed down his face. "Peter?" He asked in a pained whisper. Tony's heart crumbled inside him and his knees gave out as his entire world was now gone; laying still and unbreathing on the ground before him.

The world didn't stop for Tony to grieve, and neither did the fight around him. Before he could stand himself up, Tony felt one, two, three, four . . . _too many_ of the aliens piling up on him and on Peter. Tony went to fire his repulser at them, only to find that it wouldn't work. Suddenly, his entire suit was offline and he was left to fight the ever-increasing number of aliens on his own, completely vulnerable. He screamed and yelled in agony and in fear. He couldn't move again. The aliens were overcoming him and he _couldn't move._

Peter was woken by the sound of his name being called. He confusedly grabbed his phone from his bedside table to look at the time. 3:29 am. _Maybe I dreamed that,_ he thought. He considered going back to sleep. _It just seemed too real, _he finally concluded as he swung his legs over the side of his bed and stood up, running his fingers through his hair.

He walked to his door and exited his room, unsure of where he was going. "Fri, is everyone asleep right now?" he asked, looking up at the ceiling.

"Currently, you are the only one awake. However, Boss seems to be experiencing some distress in his sleep. Would you like me to tell him you're awake?"

"No, that's fine. I'm headed there anyway," said Peter, now aware of what was going on. Tony was having a nightmare. _Huh, usually it's me having the nightmare and Mr. Stark wakes me up,_ thought Peter.

He had almost made it to Tony's bedroom door when he heard another scream, unlike anything Peter had heard from Tony before. This scream seemed desperate, agonized, and fearful; very seldom would Peter ever see Tony not be cool, calm, and collected. This caused Peter to disregard any niceties that would have him knock and wait to be allowed inside Tony's bedroom. He anxiously walked into the room and found Tony laying in his bed, sleeping, just as Peter suspected.

Tony was covered in sweat and was motionless in his bed, even as he screamed. "Mr. Stark?" Tony wasn't the heaviest of sleepers, so Peter didn't think he'd have to do much more than say Tony's name at his bedside.

Tony didn't wake.

"Mr. Stark, it's me, wake up," Peter tried again, and to no avail. Tony let out another scream, causing Peter to jump.

"Ok, let's try this again," Peter muttered to himself. "Tony, wake up!" Peter said louder as he nudged Tony's arm. Tony quickly jerked his arm away and sat straight up in his bed.

"Mr. Stark! I'm so glad you're awake now! You were just having the worst nightmare, and -"

"Go away! Somebody help! Somebody, please!" Tony screamed, looking over in Peter's direction with a blank stare.

Tony couldn't move as the aliens kept piling on top of him. He couldn't fight them off. Their snarls and growls intensified and all Tony could do was scream and _what the hell was going on_ and _why couldn't he move _and _somebody please help._

Suddenly he heard a voice that he could not discern. All he knew was that he was in danger and he was going to die and he couldn't move and Peter was gone and there was nothing left for him and it was all his fault.

He felt something push against his arm. What was that? What was going on? Where was he? Why is it dark now?

Then came a voice. "What's going on? You're fine, Mr. Stark, it's just me!" _Who is Mr. Stark? Who was talking? What is going on? Where am I? I'm going to die. Peter already died. Where are the aliens? I can't move._

Where are the aliens?

"Mr. Stark, seriously, you're scaring me. What's going on? Are you okay?

_What is going on? Who is that figure in front of me? What - something has my legs. Something has my legs!_

Forcing himself to lay down, Tony violently thrust his legs in every direction until his blanket was on the floor. He laid still again, eyes glossed over, looking at nothing in particular.

Peter was officially scared out of his mind for Mr. Stark now. "Hey, Mr. Stark? You're safe now. It's Peter, I'm safe. Wake up, please. Do you recognize me?" Peter's voice shook and so did his hands as he reached out to ground Tony and wake him up by resting his hands on the older man's arms. At the touch, Tony recoiled sharply and let out another scream.

"Don't touch me!" He shouted. Peter quickly withdrew his hands and took a step back, tears forming in his eyes. He didn't know _what to do._

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., what is going on?"

"It seems that Boss is experiencing a night terror as a side effect of sleep deprivation."

"Ok, well what do I do?"

"The best course of action is to remain calm, refrain from waking him, and wait until it's over."

Peter nervously agreed and walked over to sit quietly in the chair nearest Tony's bed, waiting until the night terror passed.

Tony woke with a start, sitting up in bed violently. He felt his heart beating fast, and adrenaline coursed through his veins. _Where is Peter?_ He thought. For some reason he felt like Peter was in danger and needed to know that Peter was okay. "Peter!" he called out unthinkingly.

"Mr. Stark?" asked Peter quietly. Why was Peter in his bedroom? Tony turned to face him.

"Peter? Are you okay?" asked a very relieved Tony.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I think you just had a night terror?" Peter sounded nervous and hesitant, and now Tony knew why.

"Shit, kid. I'm sorry you had to see that."

"I'm not," responded Peter.

"What?"

"I'm not sorry I had to see it. I'm sorry I couldn't wake you up."

Tony stood up from his bed and faced Peter, who had walked over to Tony's bedside. Tony gripped Peter's left bicep and used his right hand to turn Peter's face over to make sure he was okay.

"I think you may have dreamt about me," Peter said when Tony let go of his face.

"Yeah, I think I did," said Tony.

"I promise I'm safe," reassured Peter.

Tony looked at Peter for a few seconds as if making sure for himself that Peter was okay.

"Thanks for coming to help me, Peter. You're a good kid, you know that?" Peter smiled.

"I'm going to head back to bed now," he said as he turned to walk towards Tony's bedroom door to let himself out.

"Peter?" Tony caught himself calling out before he could decide otherwise. Peter turned around to face him. "I'm really sorry about tonight. You were worried about my health and I snapped at you, which was totally uncalled for. I'm sorry."

"It's fine, really. I'm sorry for leaving like that."

"You had every right to leave. What I said was not cool. Just, thanks for helping me tonight. And for the record, I'm glad you're safe."

"Yeah, me too. And I'm glad you're okay too, Mr. Stark."

"And hey, no telling anyone about this, okay? It'll make them think I don't take care of myself."

Peter laughed. "They think that already, I don't have to tell them," he said happily as he walked out Tony's door and into his own bedroom.

Tony relaxed once again in his bed with a smile on his face. _How did I land the best kid in the world?_


	3. Isolation

I took an interesting approach to this one, straying from my usual "pretend Endgame never happened because f that" universe and instead exploring what Peter may have felt after Tony died. This was hard to write but also kind of therapeutic in a way? I was kind of able to project a little bit of my grief onto Peter and express it in a way I haven't been able to. Please let me know what you think!

* * *

Peter's cell phone lay five feet from where he was sitting in his Spiderman suit on the top of his and May's apartment building. May had been trying to call him for the past ten minutes. Or at least Peter thought it was May. He didn't know. He hadn't moved since he got here two hours ago.

His phone rang again, and again Peter didn't move to answer it. It rang for a few seconds, then stopped. This time May left a voicemail:

"Peter, honey, I know you don't want to talk to me, but I'm starting to really worry about you. Please . . . just let me know that you're safe, okay? Just tell me you're okay. Please."

Her voice was thick and wet with worry. Guilt ate Peter's insides. He should return to his apartment, or at least call May back and tell her that he was okay. Was he okay?

Peter chuckled. He was far from okay. Anything but okay. It was exactly a week after he was snapped back into existence after five years in the Soul Stone. One week exactly from when he watched Tony Stark, genius playboy billionaire philanthropist, beat Thanos with the Infinity Gauntlet then _die_, while Peter stood nearby, helpless to do anything about it.

Iron Man, Peter's hero since childhood, his _father figure,_ gone forever, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Peter thought of his parents. They died long ago in a plane crash, and Peter had only distant memories of them. After they died, he was placed in the care of his aunt and uncle, May and Ben.

Ben became Peter's father figure when his parents died. They were so close. Ben supported Peter in ways that May or anyone else could not, and he filled the hole in Peter's life left by his father who was taken too soon, and for that, Peter was eternally grateful. He looked up to Ben and always tried to make him proud. From Ben came Peter's mantra, "with great power comes great responsibility."

Ben was gone, too. Shot by a criminal, taken from this world right before Peter's eyes. That was his fault too - Peter didn't save him. Couldn't. And he hadn't forgiven himself for that. Couldn't.

Maybe if Peter were better, Ben would still be here.

Then there was Tony. Peter remembered that day when he came home to May in their apartment only to see Tony Stark sitting on his couch. They had gone to Peter's bedroom where Tony revealed that he knew Peter's alter ego. From that was born a relationship between the two superheroes wherein Tony would mentor Peter and make his suits and Peter would help out only at Tony's request and give Happy updates on his patrols as Queens' Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman.

What neither of them was expecting, though, was that the relationship between them would grow from mentor-and-mentee to friends to father-and-son.

Thinking back on his time with Tony, Peter couldn't really pinpoint a time where their relationship shifted in that way. Germany, the whole thing with the Ferry, the Vulture, the nights in the lab . . . over time they grew closer together until Thanos took Peter for a while then Tony forever.

Losing his parents was difficult, but Peter got through it. Losing Ben was harder. Excruciating, even, but Peter was getting over it. Why was it that losing Tony hurt so bad?

There was a hole in Peter's heart that a father figure should fill; that had been filled three times previously. The worst part about this time, Peter realized, was that he didn't quite realize what it was that he had with Tony until he would never get to experience it again.

No more nights staying up too late messing around in the lab.

No more missions wherein Tony was a little too protective of his protégé.

No more rides in Tony's cars for no reason at all.

No more jam sessions to AC/DC until Pepper shut it down.

No more guidance with superheroing, or dating, or life, from father to son, from someone who understood Peter in a way no one else could.

No more Tony Stark. Not for the world. Not for Peter.

He is gone.

He's _gone._

Peter swung his legs that hung over the corner of the building. He should feel something. Why wasn't he depressed, crying all the time, unable to get out of bed, consumed and choked by the heavy burden of grieving someone he loved, but couldn't save?

Emptiness. Rawness.

Peter kicked his feet against the side of the building hard. He had to feel something, and happiness was too far off. A jolt of pain shot from his heels to his knees, then died as quickly as it had come.

He stared down at the busy New York street tens of stories below him. How is the world still moving as if their greatest defender was still here?

Across the intersection, a small shrine to Iron Man was set up against a building. A chalk drawing of the hero on the sidewalk was surrounded by flowers and plastic Iron Man masks. That's how the world knew Tony - as Iron Man, sure, but the Tony Stark that the world knew was the one who frustrated reporters and congressmen and played the ladies and drank until he couldn't stand, the one who supported a young superhero by giving him a suit.

The world would never have the chance to know the Tony Stark that Peter knew - the one who laughed at science puns, sang karaoke, liked his coffee black, stayed up too late at night in his lab, helped Peter with his homework, remembered his birthday, payed for his dinner, taught him how to change a tire, the one who loved fiercely and protected those who were lucky enough to be the ones he loved.

Not even Peter would get to see the Tony who carried his daughter to bed, teased her, ruffled her hair, took care of her when she was sick, and taught her how to make it through this crazy life.

How was Peter supposed to move on?

Peter wondered if Tony had felt like this after Peter was snapped out of existence by Thanos.

He remembered when he was brought back to life and transported to the final battle with Thanos, five years after the first one. More superheroes fought more villainous creatures than Peter had ever seen or even imagined. He thought of the plan to get the gauntlet to Hope and Scott's van, and how the gauntlet was passed from superhero to superhero until it eventually got to Peter.

Why the _hell_ didn't Peter think of snapping himself?

How could he be so selfish as to not be the one to prevent bad things from happening to those he loved who fought alongside him?

_With great power comes great responsibility._

Peter was enhanced, Tony was not. Dr. Hulk survived the snap that brought half of the world's population back to life, so who's to say that Peter's enhancements couldn't have saved him from the snap that would have killed Thanos and his army?

Peter could have been the one to do it. He _should _have been the one to do it. He owed it to Tony, who had made countless sacrifices on his behalf already.

He had the power, and therefore the responsibility to be the one to snap, but he didn't do it. He failed Ben, but he was already gone forever before Peter was presented this chance. What was nauseatingly worse was that he failed Tony, the man who would _still be here_ if Peter had only snapped when he had the chance.

Peter watched in silence as still the cars and the people travelled far below him. He stood up on the corner of the roof, then lowered himself to a crouching position, before thoughtlessly letting himself lean forward and fall off the edge.

He didn't feel scared as he gained speed and fell towards the ground headfirst. If anything, he felt a little bit more weightless, free of the burden of Tony's death that was _all his fault._

Time didn't slow down like it does in the movies. After a second or so, Karen's voice filled Peter's senses: "Peter, you are falling at an alarming rate. I recommend you shoot a web and pull yourself up."

Multiple web targets were lit by Peter's suit and filled his vision.

"Peter, immediate action is recommended."

"You are nearing the ground at high speeds. Pull yourself up now to prevent injury."

"PETER!" An alarmed-sounding Karen was interrupted by the sound of Peter's web shooter then by the crack of his shoulder as Peter pulled himself up a mere 30 feet from the ground below. He pulled himself to the top of a short building nearby as worried citizens called out to him from the sidewalks and streets below.

"Spiderman, are you okay?"

"What happened?"

"I'm detecting a dislocated shoulder, and your heart rate is extremely high. It seems that you are in distress. Should I call Mr. Stark?" offered Karen.

It was like all the air had been sucked from Peter's lungs and suddenly the weight of the world was back resting on his chest. Tears sprung to Peter's eyes as he gasped for air.

"Peter, should I call Mr. Stark?"

"Shut up, Karen! Of course you shouldn't call Mr. Stark, and you know why? Because he's not there to answer you. He will never answer me or you or anybody else again, Karen. He's gone. Gone forever. Because of me. And there's nothing anyone can do to change that! He's gone!"

Silence.

With his good arm, Peter slowly swung back up to his original place on top of his apartment building. He sat as he cried for another 15 minutes or so until his phone rang again. This time Peter stood up and grabbed his phone from the ledge to see who was calling.

_Pepper Stark._

He couldn't hold back the sob that racked his entire frame. He covered his mouth with his hand, dropping his phone on the roof below him, as he cried silently for the first time since Tony's funeral. The phone stopped ringing.

How was Peter supposed to keep living in a world without Tony Stark?


End file.
